Duty and Devotion
by MaverickJediSabyne
Summary: As he feels increasingly drawn to his lord, Quinn decides he can no longer serve her in the capacity he feels she deserves. When he requests to be reassigned, however, things don't go according to plan. A rewrite of the romance quest by the same name.
1. Chapter 1

_Today is the day._ Lycuneae took her hair out of its standard high ponytail, running her fingers through it briefly before repeating the action with a comb. She had always liked her hair, its deep crimson locks reminded her of the blood she often spilled when fighting her enemies. In the past, some had complained that her hairstyle was too severe, said that she should wear her hair down more often to soften the look of her high forehead and slightly narrow eyes. She paid no attention to those critiques; to be a lord of the Sith, one could not be focusing undue attention on their appearance. That was a waste of energy, energy that could be spent on important tasks meant to secure power.

As she removed the last few knots from her hair, she thought of her master. While not what one would picture a 'typical' Sith Lord looking like, Baras' cunning and skills at manipulation made him nearly unmatched amongst his peers. She was honored to be his apprentice, honored to be the hand that worked to enforce his will throughout the galaxy. She hoped to continue working alongside him, at least until the day came when he died by her hand.

Her hair free of tangles, she returned it to its previous high ponytail before picking up a small cosmetics brush. She pondered the small collection of jars and tins that sat before her with a mix of puzzlement and curiosity. Having admitted to Vette that she didn't have the first clue about cosmetics and the wearing of them, the young Twi'lek had coerced both her and Jaesa into a quick 'girls only jaunt' into Kaas City to find the proper accoutrements. While she had been shown the proper way to use the cosmetics they chose for her, Lycuneae was still a bit hesitant. This was the domain of both her sister and aunt, whose elaborately painted faces hid equally cruel hearts. She herself had been taught to keep her face as clear and open as her heart, that she would learn her lessons more quickly that way.

Now, she was in the midst of learning a new lesson.

She selected a soft green eyeshadow, and dipped the tip of the brush into it. As she applied the pigment over one cold blue eye, she thought of Quinn. A smile formed on her lips as she remembered all the ways she teased him thus far through their mission together. Finishing the first eye to her satisfaction, she gave her other eye the same treatment, thinking of all the times she had pointed out the reddening of his ears, the ways she was obviously flustering him, their first shared kiss...

Her hand stilled for a moment as she remembered that kiss. He protested that their involvement together was improper, but they both knew they were attracted to one another. Her fingers trembled a bit, and she stifled a curse as she dropped the brush, the pigmented tip drawing a long smear down her cheek. Setting the brush aside, she wiped at the smear with her fingertips for a moment; when she saw the color wasn't budging, she switched to a damp towel to clean the spot. With it cleaned to her satisfaction, she hastily finished the rest of her makeup, then paused to admire her work in the mirror. She smiled at what she saw.

"This _has_ to be the day," she said to her reflection. "The day he tells me his feelings for me."

Only a blind man could have missed the signs this day was coming. She caught every plaintive look he cast her way, saw several times where he appeared ready to speak and decided against it. For several days, this game had continued; she had even asked him point-blank what was troubling him, only to have him swiftly deny anything was amiss. Finally, only mere hours earlier, he had approached her as they were boarding the _Fury_ and requested a private audience with her. It was a request she granted almost eagerly, and the look on his face told her he was as surprised as she was at her response.

As she left her quarters, Lycuneae's attention was caught by three of her crew members. Jaesa gave her usual sweet smile, inclining her head in a deferential bow. As she straightened, she gave her master a playful wink, which was swiftly returned. Since Nomen Karr's defeat, Jaesa had fit in well with the crew of the _Fury_; her knowledge of the Force and ability to take tactical direction had more than aided in a number of battles.

Next to her apprentice, Vette stood in her usual stance; she casually leaned against the nearby doorway with her arms folded. When their eyes met, Vette gave her a look that she knew all too well. It was that half-puzzled look she wore anytime Quinn was touched upon. One didn't need the Force to know what that look conveyed.

Lycuneae laughed a bit as she imagined Vette's words as that look translated them. _Really? You and Captain Stuffy? Well, all right, if it makes you happy..._

The gruff sound of someone clearing his throat caught her ear, and she turned her focus on Pierce. He sat in a chair that was positioned suspiciously close to the doorway to the cockpit. He had his large gun on his lap, and appeared for all intents and purposes to be cleaning it. But she knew better, particularly when her sharp eye caught a small tin sitting on a shelf clear across the room from where he sat. Without a second thought, she used the Force to pick up the tin and send it over to his seat. She smirked a bit when he accepted it, a surprised look briefly crossing his face.

"Working on that experimental 'dry polish' I've heard is so good to keep guns from rusting?" she asked. "Or just trying to find an excuse to sit near the cockpit door?"

"Err, I must...I must have left it on the shelf when I was looking for a place to sit," he replied, though she could easily hear him scrambling to cover the lie. "Space travel always makes me a bit forgetful, y'know?"

"I understand. Just make sure it doesn't make you forget your place, Lieutenant," she said stiffly.

"Of course not, my lord."

Passing by Pierce, Lycuneae stopped at the doorway to the cockpit. If she were anyone else, one might think she was hesitating, or even afraid. And maybe she was, romance _was_ new territory for her, after all. But she would be damned if she let that get in her way.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the doorway. All the while, she felt the eyes of her crew on her, and she resisted the urge to groan and roll her eyes. This was already going to prove awkward enough without contending with an audience.

"Quinn?" she ventured, letting her eyes adjust to the lighting in the cockpit.

"_Of course, Captain! It would be an honor to have you serve with me again, especially after what you did for me against Broysc's men_," the cheerful voice of Major Ovech echoed through the cockpit from its origin in the small holotransmitter. _"Once you receive clearance from Her Lordship, just send authorization over, and we can finalize things. It's quite generous of her, allowing you to transfer before you complete your mission._"

"Err, yes. It truly is," Quinn rubbed a spot behind his left ear, a habit he had somehow picked up when he felt the slightest twinge of anxiety. The worst part was that, short of cutting his hands off at the wrists, he saw no simple way to break himself of it. He hated that annoying little habit; no matter how discreet he tried to be, anyone in the same room as him could zero in on it and use it to knock him down a peg. He would have to work harder at being the stoic, cool-headed Imperial officer he had been raised to be. "I have actually not broached the topic with her yet. I have requested an audience with her to discuss the matter. She should be along any minute."

"_Excellent. Keep me posted, Captain._" As the image flickered out, Quinn slumped into the captain's chair behind him, pressing his fingers to his temples. He felt stuck. Trapped between two different factions that were pulling him two different directions. He was bound to Baras, felt indebted to him for both his life and his career. Yet he was also indebted to her, to his new lord. She had given him so many chances to expand his knowledge and levels of expertise in ways that would only better serve the Empire. She also opened his mind in other ways; his newly-found appreciation for art and music was just one of them. She also encouraged him to read more and to learn other ways to clear his mind and refocus, which were of great assistance when they inevitably wandered into yet another dangerous situation.

He didn't know. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Malavai Quinn had no answer that would fix his current situation. When he had first joined her crew, he had approached Baras' mission with great gusto. He funneled all sorts of strategic information to his master throughout their travels, always away from the eyes of his lord. More recently, however, he was mustering less and less motivation to send those reports. When he did send them, he only sent the minimum amount of information Baras requested; he didn't have the heart to send the fully detailed reports of the past.

Damn her for being so distracting. He had to find a way off this ship before...

"_Quinn?_" The voice calling his name abruptly halted his thoughts. Hastily, he stood from his seat, clearing his throat as he faced the viewport. He clenched his fists behind his back, hoping he could disguise their shaking.

"Yes, my lord. I am here, as I said I would be." He turned to face her as she entered the room, suppressing a smile as he watched her rest her hands on her hips. Even though she was his superior, he had always thought her beautiful in a way. Not the same way Nesha had been; hers had been a beauty cultivated by privilege and upbringing. Where his former fiance had been slim and delicate, his lord was strong and powerful. Where Nesha had been gentle and quiet-spoken, Lord Lycuneae was commandeering and forceful. The stark contrast between these two women who had graced his life made his head swim.

He needed to focus. He let his gaze fall on his lord's face, only to find himself staring in a puzzled fashion. "My lord," he began. "If I may inquire, are you wearing cosmetics?"

He thought he could spot her blush. "I...Vette told me I would look nicer with a little extra color," she replied, sounding slightly shaky. "Since you requested an audience, I thought it a good test of my application skills."

"Yes, well...it looks quite nice, my lord," he responded crisply. He immediately noted the flicker of disappointment that appeared in her blue eyes. Had he said the wrong thing?

He watched her give a shrug. "Well, Captain. I'm here, as you requested," she said.

_It's now or never, Malavai_. He told himself. He took a deep breath before clearing his throat again. "Yes, and I thank you for your attention, my lord," he answered. "I must officially request to be reassigned."

Before he could say another word, she burst out laughing. He stood staring at her in shock as she fought to stifle her laughter. He didn't _think_ he had said anything humorous, so why did she react this way?

"Oh, Quinn. Have you finally discovered a sense of humor?" She asked. Her smile faded as he emphatically shook his head, one eyebrow raising over an icy blue eye. "Then why do you ask me this? Is this mission too harrowing for you, _Captain_?"

Unconsciously, he flinched at the barb he could hear in the title. He knew he would have to tread carefully. "Not at all," he answered. "On the contrary, I thrive on harrowing."

"Then why do you ask me this?" she repeated. "Why in the galaxy would I want that?" He noted her hands slowly curling into fists where they sat on her hips, and he could hear the tinge of anger in her voice. She was losing patience with him, he needed to remedy this or else lose even the remote chance of her approving his reassignment.

"For the sake of you and the crew," he answered. Seeing her eyebrow raise even further, he continued. "Because I am forced to admit I am compromised," he replied. He watched her face for any further reaction, but saw none. "Thoughts of you have begun to...distract me. My feelings affect my ability to concentrate. It is for that reason that I cannot, in good conscience, continue to serve you."

He watched her silently drop her hands from her hips. She turned her back to him, taking a few steps across the cockpit to the opposite wall. He wasn't sure if she was angry or upset or some other emotion he couldn't quantify.

He felt it prudent to continue. "I just spoke with Major Ovech via holo," he said, taking a few steps toward her. "He told me that with your authorization..."

"_No_."

The whispered word was harsh, causing him to stop speaking. He cautiously took another step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. "My lord..." he began again.

"Don't. _Touch me!_" Before he could jump back, she had whirled back around to face him, a blast of Force energy knocking him backwards. The backs of his knees hit the captain's chair, and he involuntarily sank into it with a grunt. He felt the blood drain from his face, had the terrible feeling this was about to go very wrong very quickly.

"Tell me, Quinn. Are you a man, or are you a rodent?" she asked, an acidic tone edging every word. "Because if you can't take it, Quinn, I'll deposit you back on Balmorra to rot instead. And I'll never give you the luxury of another thought. You can watch the HoloNet for news on the _real_ action."

She crossed the small space between them, standing so close her knees nearly touched his. Hesitantly, he looked up at her face, noted what appeared to be damp streaks on her cheeks. _Was she crying?_

"Drop your eyes, Quinn. I did not give you permission to look me in the face." At hearing the harsh, snapped command, he dropped his gaze. He focused on his right hand where it lay clenched in his lap, noted the trembling he had seen earlier appeared to now be much worse.

"If you _ever_ go behind my back and speak to another soul about being reassigned without conferring with me first, you will be fortunate if I let you keep your limbs intact," she hissed. "Request for reassignment denied. You are dismissed, _Captain_."

As she turned to leave the cockpit, Quinn weakly stretched his right hand out to her back. "But...my lord, please..." he said.

"I said you are _dismissed_. Do not try my patience, Captain," she replied.

Woodenly, he dropped his hand back to its prior resting place on his lap. His head was positively reeling from what had transpired over the prior few minutes. How had he misjudged things so badly? What he thought would be a simple, routine request had turned into something far worse. Now, he wasn't sure what to think, or even what to do.

He heard her muffled voice snapping an order to Pierce. Leaning forward in the chair, he buried his face in his hands.

_How am I ever going to fix this mess?_ He asked himself. The lack of a forthcoming answer did not bode well for his flagging confidence.


	2. Chapter 2

"So how do you think it'll go in there?" Vette asked, still leaning against the wall behind her.

"I'm sure they'll be just fine," Jaesa replied, settling into her usual meditation position.

Vette snorted. "Highly doubt that," she said. "This is Captain Stuffy we're talking about, after all. If he knew someone liked him, he'd probably fall over dead from the shock."

"Would be quite a spectacle if he did," Pierce said. "Not that I'd bank on it if I were you. Between Clueless and Slightly Less Clueless in there, I think we'll all die of old age before they figure things out."

Vette laughed. "Those nicknames fit them so perfectly right now," she said. "Only problem is, which one is which?"

"Depends on the day and the topic," Pierce replied.

"Really, now. It's not nice to speak so of our lord," Jaesa protested. "After all, she does have a great many things she has had to both learn and endure. Of course there will be some that slip through the cracks."

"Awful lot of cracks for things to slip through as far as she's concerned," Vette retorted. "Besides, weren't you going to meditate or something right now?"

"Yes, I was. I..." Jaesa's statement was abruptly cut off when a sudden unintelligible shriek was heard, followed by the clear sound of a small shockwave. Though it was brief, it still managed to startle all three of them.

Jaesa's eyes grew wide. "I sense a disturbance in the Force," she said. "The Master is quite upset right now."

"Really?" Vette snapped sarcastically. "I really don't think you need the Force to tell that. It's pretty obvious."

A few moments later, Lycuneae appeared in the doorway from the cockpit. The trio could see she was significantly less than pleased with whatever had happened. Her makeup, so perfect and lovely earlier, was dissolving into smears and streaks that ran in colorful rivulets down her cheeks. Her blue eyes were narrowed in icy fury; Vette could almost swear that her fury was causing a small breeze to swirl around her, as her sharp eyes caught the slight twitching of that high ponytail.

"Pierce." Lycuneae's voice was dangerous, told them they better have satisfactory responses to her requests, lest things turn very ugly.

"M-my lord," he replied, standing up suddenly.

"You're heading into the field with me, Lieutenant," she continued. "Suit up, you need to be ready to head out in thirty minutes. If I am kept waiting, you'll wish you had been on time."

"Understood, my lord. I'll be prepared and waiting for you when you call."

As he left, she turned her attention to her apprentice. "Jaesa," she said, her low tone making the young former Jedi shudder slightly.

"Is everything all right, Master? Can I assist you in some way?" Jaesa replied.

Lycuneae hesitated briefly before speaking. "Everything...will be all right," she said. "It is something I will have to learn to endure." She walked past both Jaesa and Vette. "I will be in my chambers preparing for my next mission from my master," she told them. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Whatever you say, Lyka," Vette answered, sounding a little too cheerful as she headed back to her quarters.

"It shall be as you wish, Master," Jaesa said, giving a slight bow. "I will be here if you wish anything of me."

With the door to her chamber closed tightly behind her, Lycuneae leaned back against it with a heavy sigh.

"I am a fool," she said simply. "An utter, complete fool."

She felt her eyes burn with tears again, and she closed her eyes and let them fall. This day -and the prior few days, really- had seemed so full of hope and promises of new things for her. She had truly thought she and Quinn were growing closer, that he might finally be opening up to her about his own feelings. While he did share a hint of what he was feeling, he couched it in his request to leave. She regretted lashing out at him the way she had, but how was she supposed to react? He had totally blindsided her with his request to be reassigned, and her emotions were wound so tightly that she just..._snapped_. Not exactly her finest hour, by any means.

Hastily, she crossed the room to the wardrobe, where she selected the robes and garments that would make her look the most intimidating. As she was dressing, a metallic glint caught her attention, emanating from a small a small hook on the door of the wardrobe. Lycuneae smiled as she recognized her mother's amulet, gifted to her during her previous visit to Dromund Kaas. Reaching out, she carefully lifted the chain from its hook and held the amulet up, noting how her mother's personal symbol glowed almost ominously.

She smiled as she clasped the amulet around her neck. Prior to their reunion on Dromund Kaas, Lycuneae had not seen her real mother since she was a small girl back on Ziost; the woman whom she had grown up calling 'mother' was a pitiful caricature of the term. That woman could never hold a candle to Lady Detasa Gammon, no matter how she or her husband puffed her up in society. Lycuneae had long suspected her father had only married her stepmother out of anger at his inability to possess Lady Detasa; they had been betrothed until she broke the arrangement to marry a much more prominent up-and-coming Sith Lord. Though given to her father and his wife to raise from a young age, Lycuneae had never felt the same sort of bond as she had with her own mother. She often received letters from Lady Detasa, as well as gifts of books and holovids to educate and entertain her. She loved those gifts, and in fact had kept every last one. They were perfect for those long nights when she couldn't sleep...

A soft knock at her door startled her out of her thoughts. "I thought I gave orders not to be disturbed," she snapped irritably.

"Forgive me, Master," Jaesa's voice was slightly muffled by the closed door. "I simply wished to pass the word to you that Pierce is ready to deploy."

"Thank you, Jaesa. Tell him I'll be there momentarily." Hastily, Lycuneae finished dressing. After the last straps and laces were tightened, she picked up her lightsabers, clipping them to her belt. Upon exiting the room, she saw Pierce leaning against the wall near the ship's exit.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant," she said.

He shrugged. "Wasn't waiting long," he replied. "B'sides, it isn't my place to rush a Sith lord."

"I appreciate your consideration and patience, Pierce," she said. "Shall we get going? I know Darth Baras does not particularly like to be kept waiting."

As they began departing the ship, Lycuneae caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she squinted her eyes against the dim light and peered toward the doorway to the ship's common area. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she made out the figure of Quinn where he stood directly in the doorway. She couldn't make out his face, but she senses a jumble of emotions coming from him. Not that she particularly cared, at that moment.

Turning her full attention in his direction, she gave him her iciest glare, one that promised she was nowhere near through with him yet. Smirking as she sensed his sudden spike of fear, she turned away from him and exited the ship.

There would be time to ponder retribution and punishment later. Now was the time to be serious.


	3. Chapter 3

Initially, Quinn felt a shudder of dread pass through him as he felt the weight of her vicious stare. After another moment or two, he vaguely worried he would be sick, as he was briefly tormented by a hint of nausea. Once she had turned away and left the ship, Quinn silently retreated to the cockpit, letting out a long sigh of mingled fatigue and frustration.

Once the cockpit door had closed behind him, he briefly leaned back against it, cradling his forehead in his hand. "What a mess," he muttered. "What a ridiculously complicated mess." Try as he might, he couldn't deny his fault in this matter. He knew perfectly well how his lord hated surprises; yet he had gone against her wishes and requested the transfer. He should not have been surprised she became so angry; he knew perfectly well how his lord hated surprises, and yet he had gone through with it anyway. Though he felt he had no right to ask for forgiveness from her, he did feel he needed to apologize for his actions. It would hurt his pride to beg for another chance, but he would gladly do it if it meant assuaging her temper.

Knowing what he had to do, no matter how unnerving the possible outcome, he returned to his usual place within the cockpit. As he approached, he spotted the datapad that sat silently on his chair. It contained all the necessary paperwork he had drawn up for his transfer to the Major's command; now, as he read the crisply formal words he had written out, he felt a sudden wave of anger at himself. When had he become this arrogant, this stupid? Who did he think he was, asking such a thing of his lord? The disgust he felt at himself and his actions only increased his rage.

With a low growl, he threw the datapad across the cockpit, hearing the dull thunk as it hit the durasteel floor. He could hear it slide across the floor, but was beyond caring at that moment. He simply sat in his chair with his chin in his hand, trying to determine the most appropriate way to apologize for his behavior.

Yet for all of his anger at himself, he wasn't completely convinced he was in the wrong. True, he could have chosen a better time to speak to her about the transfer, but he wasn't sure his request was all that unique. He wanted to do his job, he had felt being on her crew would compromise that. He had always been taught that an officer recused himself from his crew when he felt his ability to do his job was compromised; indeed, not doing so risked a court-martial for fraternization. So he was only doing what he was supposed to.

So why did that bring him no comfort? Why did that course of action only lead to more frustration and hardship?

He stiffened when he heard the cockpit door slide open, slightly fearful that it was his lord returning early to inflict some punishment or other upon him. He relaxed when he saw Vette's form leaning against the door frame, one eyebrow raised curiously.

"Can I help you, Vette?" he asked harshly. "Or have you simply come to gawk at my discomfort?"

Vette shook her head. "Neither, actually. I just wanted to see if I could help somehow. Y'know, see if I could intervene with Lyka and get you off the hook..."

"'Lycuneae', Vette," Quinn corrected briskly.

"Huh?"

"You keep referring to her by that ridiculous nickname of your creating. It is unprofessional and improper to refer to a Sith lord in that fashion," Quinn continued with a frown. Vette's tendency toward using nicknames for their lord always bothered him. "So I corrected you."

"Y'know, when you decide to turn on Captain Stuffy, you're really irritating," Vette snapped back crossly. "Given your current situation, I really don't think you're in much of a place to be lecturing me right now."

As she turned to leave, she stopped abruptly when the toe of her boot hit something on the floor. "What's this?" she asked, bending down to take a closer look. "Huh. Wonder why this datapad is just laying here."

"That datapad belongs to me," Quinn said, standing slowly. By this point, the young twi'lek had picked it up and was starting to browse through it. "I would appreciate it if you gave it back." His irritation only increased as she appeared to completely ignore him. No argument, no backtalk, no characteristic roll of her eyes, just silence. Briskly, he closed the gap between the two of them, yanking the datapad from Vette's hands and returning it to its usual place on his belt.

_Damn Vette...how much did she see?_ He could feel his face redden slightly. _What did she read...?_

"You know. You're pretty lucky, Captain Stuffy," Vette's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Wh-why is that?" He tried his best to sound casual and detached. He failed miserably on both counts.

"Had it been anyone else standing in your boots and making the request you did, Lyka would have killed them on the spot," Vette replied, taking note of the blood draining from Quinn's face. "If it weren't bad enough you sprung a request on her when she was unprepared, you had to go and really dig yourself a hole by making it a _transfer_ request. You're really lucky."

"Yes. I am well aware of that fact, Vette," Quinn snapped, walking back across the room to sit in his chair. "I thank you for the harsh reminder."

Frustrated, Vette threw her hands in the air. "Fine!" she said, clearly exasperated. "You go ahead and sit there and stew in your own stubborn idiocy, Quinn. See how far it gets you the next time you do something to make Lyka mad."

As she abruptly turned to leave the cockpit, Vette nearly collided with Jaesa, who had entered the cockpit through the open door. "Sorry, Jaesa!" Vette said, quickly stepping to one side. "I wasn't expecting you to come up here."

Jaesa smiled her usual sweet smile. "I wasn't planning on coming, either," she replied with a slight shrug. "Yet I had a feeling I needed to try and help smooth things over in some way."

Vette snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that," she said. "I don't think our good Captain is interested in listening to anyone right now, unless you count the voice in his head that tells him he's always right and always perfect."

"Excuse me?" Quinn protested sharply. "I do _not_ have a voice in my head like that!"

"If you say so," Vette retorted before returning her attention to Jaesa. "At any rate, trying to talk to him has given me the worst headache. So I'm going to go lay down. You're more than welcome to try talking some sense into him, but I still think you're wasting your energy on a lost cause." With one last casual wave, Vette slipped through the doorway and out of sight, leaving the young former Jedi alone in the cockpit with a very unhappy-looking captain.

She stood quietly for several moments before she heard Quinn address her. "So what do _you_ want?" he asked. "Are you really here to try to help, impossible a task as that may be? Or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me in my unhappiness?"

Jaesa shook her head. "No, I fully intend to find a way to help you," she replied, approaching the chair where Quinn sat with his forehead cradled in one hand.

He sighed. "That...may be easier said than done," he replied. "Regardless of my own thoughts or feelings on the matter, I have still gravely insulted our lord. The fact I am still alive to sit here and brood about it is rather surprising to me."

Jaesa remained quiet for several moments. "She doesn't wish to kill you, Quinn," she said, kneeling on the floor a few feet from where he sat.

"Hmph. And what makes you so certain of that?" His tone was still harsh, though it had lost a bit of its edge.

"I can feel it," she answered. "From both of you." She paused, waiting for him to ask another question. When none came, she continued. "I sense you care a great deal for her, Quinn. Far more than an Imperial officer should care for the Sith Lord he is serving. And I have sensed a similar level of caring from her regarding you."

He kept his hand close to his face, glad now that it would work to shield the reddening of his face. "I...yes. That's true," he conceded. "I do care for her greatly. So much so that I asked for the reassignment so I could make sure both she and her crew would remain safe."

"But you didn't ask her if that's what she would want, did you?" Jaesa's tone was gentle, yet firm. A holdover from her Jedi training.

He shook his head. "I didn't," he replied. "I thought...I thought working with her would be like serving in the fleet. You have a commanding officer you report to, you work with them and the rest of the crew, and you seek reassignment if things do not appear to be working in a productive fashion." He let out a long sigh. "I've never worked directly with a Sith before, let alone one like our lord. And my inexperience caused me to make a costly blunder. Looking at it now, I regret my behavior."

"I know you do, Quinn," Jaesa replied gently. "And I'm sure she knows it as well. However, actions -even if there is no ill intended- must have consequences."

He nodded. "I know. I only wish I knew what was in store for me."

"Give it time," she replied. "I'm sure she will provide answers before long." Slowly rising to her feet, Jaesa reached over and gave his free hand a gentle squeeze. "Just try not to get yourself in a situation like this again. It's not good for anyone within earshot, or who can sense the Force," she added, smiling as she took note of the redness of his face.

As she left the cockpit, Jaesa spotted Vette leaning against the wall of the common area. "I thought you had a headache, Vette," she said.

Vette shrugged. "It's strange," she said. "As soon as I left the cockpit, it went away. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

Jaesa raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't take the Force to see what a terrible liar you are sometimes, Vette," she replied. "Why didn't you just admit you were frustrated with trying to talk to him?"

"What fun would that be?" Vette answered.


End file.
